uninvited guest 

estefaaano_writes 

-

these days, 

I wear my body 

like an uninvited guest

this awkward arrangement  

of bone and breath  

that doesn't quite fit  

the shape of who I thought I was.

I slip it right, then right again,

afraid to turn the old left

always moving in circles,  

chasing my own shadow,  

lost in the winds  

of my own confusion.

but darling,

your patience is a magic 

kind of medicine

they can't bottle,  

softens my bones,

seeps into my bloodstream  

turning everything it touches

into crimson dahlias.

how'd you do it?

this way you have  

of seeing me whole  

when I feel fractured,  

every spiral brings me back

straight into those waiting arms

and so, no regrets

for all my flaws and faults,

the stumbling steps,

and the times I wore myself all wrong,

for you are my sunset

fiery crimson

illuminating the sky 

in impossible colors 

forever fearless

in your burning.

your embrace,

they're warm horizon

where I can finally  

set down this weight  

I've been carrying,  

this body that feels  

too small and too big  

all at once.

a promise 

to never look back

to burn the road behind us

and just ride away

race toward something  

we both can't name  

but know we'll recognize it 

when we arrive.

so many stories 

we were told about a safety net

but when I look for it

it was just a hand 

fitting perfectly into mine

tonight i'm wearing black 

to mourn thе sudden loss 

of my innocence

of Mr. Bright Eyes

who thought the world  

just made sense,  

somehow that's alright 

this muted funeral for naïveté,  

for black hides the dirt

and hides the wine

that's kept me company  

this evening.

I counted out three bottles

because I’m known to drink 

the good things dry.

this thirst is 

messier than songs 

and we spend our whole lives  

trying to understand,  

that safety nets  

are just other people  

deciding to catch you  

when you fall.

but here you are,  

turning my confusion  

into something  

that might be beautiful,  

teaching me to wear  

this uninvited guest  

like it belongs to me.

 

perhaps, 

it always did.